Slightly Shifted
by Widget Power
Summary: Changelings have returned. This time, to Manehattan. More and more of Equestria becomes sucked up in the political confusion, more and more until it's too late to save the world from the attacks. Or maybe it isn't?
1. Chapter 1

I'm a Changeling.

Most of my kind are ruthless, evil, heartless. I've seen them kill those who they have sucked dry, left without any feeling of any kind. I guess I used to be that way too, but I try not to be anymore.

I'm probably the only one, but I spend my time in Ponyville. Every day, I pass through the town, greeted with waves and "hellos", pony-watching and relaxing in the midst of my friends. They know me to go by the name of the pony I take form of every day: Amethyst.

Little do they know, and I know way too well, Amethyst died. She died years ago. I found her in the Changeling Kingdom, lying on the ground and twitching. She had had all her feelings sucked from her body, just as many innocent passerby had before. Something struck me then, something from beyond the stone of my heart. I had no idea who she was, or where she came from, but I tried all I could in my power to keep her alive for her last hours. I fed her broth and cooed to her soothingly, and she kept repeating to me the same seven words: "I don't want to go to sleep". I knew exactly why.

She didn't know if she was going to wake up.

I vowed to do as much as possible to keep her awake. I sang to her, read her stories, but her eyes grew heavier and heavier before she passed out. I then laid my head against her chest, listening to her heartbeat and hearing my own breath catch when hers did. She inhaled slowly, opened her eyes halfway and caused me to flinch, and uttered: "Please. My friends. Go to them. Tell them I'm alright. Tell them I'm alive. They're in Ponyville. My name is…Amethyst." She then died right there on my bed. I sat there for hours, crying, shaking her in vain, and trying to magic her heart to beat again. It was all for naught. She was gone.

Now she is me. I am Amethyst. I will keep her friends happy, no matter what. Minuette, Parasol, Octavia… They are all so fragile. I could never hurt them. And now that I live as Amethyst, it's really hard sometimes to keep the boundary between the true me and Amethyst's body. I'm afraid one day I'll wake up and believe the lie I've been telling everyone for so many years. That I'll hurt myself as much as I would hurt them by being a Changeling.

"Amethyst!"

I look to the left just in time to catch Minuette trotting up to me. As always, she looks pretty proud. "Can we have a sleepover tonight? I just bought a million movies for half price, and I was thinking about inviting Parasol, Octavia, and Vinyl too! Just between you and me, though, I don't think we should show Tavi the Night of the Trotting Dead, huh?" She laughs lightly, flashing her teeth.

"Yeah. Sure, I'll be there." I smile at her as she walks off, then let the corners of my mouth fall again.

I'm starving.

I walk to the coffee shop, lay a few bits on the counter, and ask for a scone and a black coffee. I then take my little snack to a table by a window, right by a table of four. I recognize one of the ponies as Rarity from down the street. The other three are a complete mystery. As I sip from my cup, looking out the window, I catch bits of their conversation, not really caring until I hear Rarity mutter something.

"Have you heard? There are rumors that there's been a group of Changelings loose in Manehattan! Killing off ponies left and right!"

I flicker my eyes towards their table, watching Rarity lean closer to her companions. "They say Celestia's been keeping secrets from us. That Celestia is aware of this, and that she's been lying about the sudden deaths! Have you heard her excuses?"

"No, I haven't!" An earth pony chimes in.

"Are you sure your sources are to be trusted?" asks a Pegasus.

"Mm-hmm. I'm positive. They say she's been counting the deaths as a selective illness." Rarity groans. "As if. Half of the ones gone missing are either engaged or in a relationship. I hate changelings, why don't they just die?"

I feel my hooves press together and warp the porcelain of my mug. _How dare she?! Why don't we just die! What a little—_

"Amethyst?"

I snap out of it to find my hooves dripping in coffee and the mug in tiny pieces on the floor, and every pony in the café turned my way. I look up at Octavia, who has just strolled over. She seems worried. "Amethyst, are you feeling well?"

"YES! I mean, yeah, I'm okay. Just a little tired."

Octavia's eyes tell me she doesn't believe me, but her words contradict it. "Alright then. Just wondering. Would you like me to get you a new cup?"

"No, I'm just going to leave." I shove my chair back and stand, shaking the table and not minding to finish the scone. "I'll see you at Minuette's."


	2. Chapter 2

Minuette's is easy. The night is easy. My life is easy. Almost too much so. Tonight, there's a twelve pack of orange soda, a giant bowl of potato chips, a baker's dozen cupcakes, and my friends. No, they aren't my friends. They're Amethyst's. I'm not Amethyst.

The first movie we watch is a lighthearted comedy about a spy from Trottingham. It cheers me up somewhat. We then take a break and play music while we play Truth or Dare. Parasol almost gets a tongueful of thorns before I yank her away from the cactus Vinyl had dared her to lick. Then we watch a thriller with a lot of guns and explosions. Vinyl gets really into it, almost breaking Minuette's little flower-patterned lamp in a fit of "OHMYCELESTIA DID HE JUST OMC OMC". Then we let Tavi use the guest bedroom to watch a romantic TV show while we watch the Night of the Trotting Dead. Most of them shake in fear, but I don't. It wasn't like I hadn't seen stuff like it before. Of course, I have to look legitimate on the outside, so I cling to the others and squeal when they do. Vinyl remains somewhat unaffected, but she likes the blood and gushes about the special effects. When we can't stay awake any longer, we all collapse in either Minuette's room or the guest room. I fall asleep comfortably.

The morning comes. Then the afternoon. At around two, we all wake up, rubbing our tired eyes and wandering one by one into the kitchen, where Octavia is already making some kind of sizzling fruity meal. She calls it "bananas foster". She serves her tasty concoction on top of vanilla ice cream, which each of us gasp at. She drizzles the sizzling hot sauce over each meal, then serves it to us, five sizzling plates of pure goodness.

"Octavia, what is this sauce?" asks Vinyl, sucking on the fork.

"Caramel, actually. Melted sugar. Do you all enjoy it?"

"Mm-hmm!" we say in unison, swallowing gooey mouthfuls and enjoying the sensation of the cold, half-melted ice cream and the nearly-scalding hot bananas sliding down our throats. It wakes us all up instantly. When we leave, Minuette gets the recipe for bananas foster, Vinyl and Octavia go to their house, Parasol goes to hers, and I'm left to go to my own.

It's not a big house. It isn't small, either. It's painted light grey, with black shingles and white trim. The door is white. I walk through that door, greeted once again by Amethyst's living room.

It's a nice one-story house with an attic and basement. As soon as you walk in, it smells like citrus. Like, all the time. Ever since I can remember. I have no idea where it's coming from, and I don't know what it is either. All I know is when something bad happens in the house, like, the cat, Checker, scratched something up, or the pilot light went out in the heater, or something died in the basement, those are the only times the citrus smell isn't there. It's kind of a barometer.

The living room has a lavender carpet, small flat screen TV, a couch, and a coffee table. The hall branches off to the left and beyond it is the kitchen, the bedroom and guest bedroom, and the basement door. I like it.

I flop down onto the couch with the remote, use my magic to open the curtains, and inhale the citrus, sighing it back out and pressing the on button.

There's a cartoon on, a few movies, a game show. The only decent thing on is the news. I always watch the news, just in case of emergency or to remind me that everypony's alive.

"The weather in Canterlot is to stay at around 78 degrees, while Ponyville has dropped to a humid 68 degrees with a thirty percent chance of rain." The weatherpony waved around at the green screen map. "And now back to the news." The camera flipped to a slim, somewhat gaunt pony in a suit, who was levitating a clipboard with a bluish aura. "News from Manehattan: The Princess is preparing for a last-minute speech on the sudden disappearances of multiple ponies from the city. We're going live in five minutes."

I feel my stomach drop. So it is true. Something has been happening in Manehattan. And whatever it is will be cleared up by the Princess in five minutes?

The camera changed again, this time to a shot of Princess Celestia at a podium in Manehattan. She looked anxious, with her magic ruffling papers and shuffling notecards and combing her mane all at once. Finally she noticed it was time for her to begin.

"The tragedies that this town has faced in the past few days has been horrifying. You have been losing your children, your wives, your entire families."

At this the crowd of angry and sad ponies lurched forward, yelling and booing at the Princess. She waggled her hoof impatiently as if that would silence a crowd, speaking loudly now into the microphone. "I know this is hard for everypony to bear, but please, I beg you, stay calm." Somehow this had the desired effect to some extent. "What has happened is inexplicable, but as I speak there are ponies working on the antidote to this selective disease. As we speak, they approach the conclusion faster and faster."

So she is… She's lying… There is no way any disease could be selective. No way. A disease doesn't remain benign when you have some lack of hormone in your body. You're not immune to a virus that kills immediately. There is no such virus.

The crowd in Manehattan seems slightly less doubtful. There's a widespread applause of hooves on the ground and the camera zooms out to view the entire square. They all seem to bear varying degrees of relief, but one cream-colored pony with blue hair catches my attention, as she is the only one still on edge. Her hooves are planted. I lean a bit closer to try and make out the few pixels on the TV screen she takes up. It's a blur. There's no way I could see her even if I tried. But right as the camera was about to switch back to the newsroom, I catch a brief glimpse of a light brown pony who dives on her, pinning her down. The crowd is in too much mayhem to notice as the pony is dragged into an alley.


	3. Chapter 3

After a long contemplative sit in my living room, I come to the conclusion that it does not concern me. If the Princess wants to let her denizens live their lives in one big lie until the population is too far gone to fight back… then she can do so. It is not my problem.

Unless said problem spreads to Ponyville.

I stop in my tracks and spin the gears in my head backwards, ridding myself of my recent proposition. If it spreads to Ponyville, then I do have to give a crap. So far, no one has died, but if any of my friends do… It is my problem. There's no way I could stand by. But how would I be able to tell any of them without them going hysterical? I know for a fact Princess Twilight Sparkle is easily excited. If she hears about it, then the town would instantly be thrown into frantic disarray in trying to protect themselves.

Or maybe she knows. She is one of the Princess' closest allies, wouldn't she tell her?

Or would she?

I try to play back the many times she saved Equestria. Did Celestia tell her about them? I'm pretty sure Tirek was no big surprise to her. Of course, she probably wasn't expecting the destruction of her previous residence. She was absent the night of the Aurora Borealis, as well, so she probably had a role in that as well. When the Changelings, me among them, attacked Canterlot, the Princess would have told her to explain the force field. Discord was an obviously arranged attack, at least after the chocolate rain. So she must know. There's no way she would be kept from this kind of information.

Unless the Princess doesn't trust her to keep it a secret.

It's a very real possibility.

I walk to my bedroom, my mind too full to sleep but my body too empty to stay awake. I close my eyes and let my brain whir behind them. Then it strikes me.

She knows Rarity.

That brings my mind to a stop. It all fits together now. If Rarity knows, Twilight knows. If Twilight knows, something's going to happen. I know it.

I try to get up, but my body is suddenly heavier than my bed. I decide to rest until tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

Today, the sun is bright, the ground is soft and warm, and the citrus smell is gone.

I wake up with a start, right when the smell disappears. I sprint from my bed to the door, tearing it open and looking out into the streets. A bird twitters overhead, confirming my suspicions. Nopony is out here. There is no sign of life anywhere except the small bird above my head. I look to the left, to the right, and see nothing.

"Amethyst?"

I hear Parasol's voice from down the road. I step quickly out into the street and watch as she gallops up to me. "Oh, Amy! We thought you were still asleep! Come quickly, Princess Twilight is going to make an announcement!" She grabs my hoof between her teeth and yanks me along the road towards the Crystal Castle. So she's in on it. Twilight does know. She's going to throw us into mayhem. I can feel it.

There's the entire population, gathered in a claustrophobic, disorganized clump of a thousand ponies. I follow Parasol over to our little group, which is standing huddled together, with Octavia accidentally in the middle and looking very sweaty. I sidle up by Minuette, hissing to her out of the corner of my mouth. "Any idea what's going on?"

"Not even a fragment of one. There's a rumor being passed around that it's got something to do with Manehattan." She hushes me by waving a hoof, pointing upwards at the balcony where Princess Twilight is perched, looking rather robotic as she sorts through her papers with her dragon, Spike, standing at the door and trying to steady his shaking talons. I squint, trying to read Twilight's lips as they move. She's talking softly, though, to Spike, and her lips are barely moving. Finally, Spike closes the doors behind the Princess and stands at attention beside the doorknob.

"Citizens of Ponyville."

Her voice is amplified through some kind of spell aimed at her throat. She's talking flatly, with a bit of an absence of emotion. She gives an assertive look to the crowd of ponies, scanning them to make sure no one's lips are moving. Seeing as they are all quiet, she begins her speech. I tense up, ready for the worst.

"What has happened is inexplicable, but as I speak there are ponies working on the antidote to this selective disease in Manehattan."

I feel a chill go down my spine. Instead of talking of the changelings, she is speaking in the exact words of Princess Celestia from yesterday, but in a monotonous way.

"As we speak, they approach the conclusion faster and faster."

Her words are mirroring Celestia's.

"No, they're not…" I mutter to myself. Minuette leans slightly over to me, cocking one ear my way. "What?"

"They aren't working on the antidote because there is no disease," I give a groan. "It's all political BS to trick us into thinking we're safe…"

"Pardon me."

I flinch, looking for the source of the voice. I find Princess Twilight's indigo eyes narrowed directly at me. One by one, ponies around me turn their heads until every pony in Ponyville is aware of my existence.

Gulp.

"Is there something you would like to contribute, Amethyst Star?"

Being singled out is painfully awkward. Also, how does she even know who I am? It's not a Princess's job to know the name and appearance of every single pony in her town. It's unreal. But feeling a million pairs of eyes boring into my head is no picnic, so I have no choice but to shake my head slowly.

"Oh, but I think you do." She glares at me before taking off on her wings in a way that's both agile and graceful, two qualities that Twilight usually does not have. She flies over the citizen's heads and slightly above the Pegasi, coming to a pause and hovering a few feet in front of me. She burns holes in my common sense with her piercing stare.

"No, ma'am."

"You are to refer to me as 'Your Highness', Amethyst Star, or are you of too high a rank to do so?" She lands between two ponies, causing the group to spread out in a circular clearing, singling me out. Wait – Your Highness? Twilight can't possibly be this snide on a regular basis…

Her expression tells me not to question it, but deep in my mind, I'm still struggling to figure out what's wrong with her.

"Your Highness, I do not have anything to contribute." I blink and look to the left, trying to avoid her glare.

"You are to BOW." She suddenly surrounds my head in an electric green magic aura, yanking it downwards and cracking my jaw against the ground. My front legs buckle into a bowing position. From all around, there are gasps and whispering. I clear my head of the stars that are starting to form behind my eyelids and open my eyes, trying to make sense of it all.

Something clicks in the back of my mind. Something profound.

"Your Highness, I do not bow to Changelings."

The gasps are even louder this time, and instead of more whispering, the entire crowd has gone deathly silent.

Twilight's eyes glitter green for only a moment, but return to their original indigo as she lets her lips curl upwards into a sinister smile.

"What did you just call me?"

"A Changeling. You know exactly what's happening in Manehattan, don't you? The way ponies are getting dragged off, being found with empty eyes and matted hair, freshly and cleanly dead with no trace of infection in their blood?" I remain in my position, trying to ignore the pain in my jaw as I feel my mouth flood slowly with the taste of iron. I'm making most of these facts up, but I can tell I've struck a nerve when her eyes flicker green once more and her voice grows ever more unstable.

"You must be having delusions." She paces around me, her smile growing and stretching from a grin to a grimace.

"I'm quite sane, your Highness." I cough and swallow blood, keeping my voice surprisingly steady.

"Then maybe you're having some internal… conflict…" She shows her teeth when she smiles now, making her face look rather deformed.

"What is your meaning, Highness?" I grit my teeth, struggling now to keep my voice steady as the blood flows more profusely. The pain is beginning to reach me.

"I mean, perhaps you are the Changeling? Hoping to overthrow me and take the position for your own?"

I feel my blood turn to ice as the words escape her lips.

She lifts me from the ground with her Changeling magic aura, then licks her lips as the spell starts.

I feel a sensation that's like sandpaper rubbing my skin, biting my lip on a hysterical cry of pain as I feel the purple pelt shed and fall to the ground. Then the world turns very bright and painful, so I have to squeeze my eyes shut as my legs twitch uncontrollably. Finally, a cooling, rather pleasant feeling surrounds my body. It's nice until I realize what's happening. Amethyst's body is being peeled from my own, revealing my exoskeleton. My eyes blink open briefly, only catching a glimpse at my body before I black out.

My Changeling body.


	5. Chapter 5

**YES, I put Hannibal Lecter into this chapter. This is where the crossover part comes in. I don't own Silence of the Lambs, nor MLP, nor anything associated with the two except this little drabble-y chapter about nothing in particular!**

 **Thanks for not killing me! ^w^**

When I wake up, it's like waking up in the winter with no blanket. I'm shivering uncontrollably and lying on cold concrete, with the only source of heat and light flowing weakly in from a tiny window with steel bars slicing it into eight little lines.

I sit up, taking in my surroundings.

I'm in a classically cramped little jail cell, with my hooves chained to a loop embedded in the concrete in front of me, allowing for a three-foot radius of movement. Beyond the steel bars of my door, I see a police unicorn pony in uniform levitating a baton before his body, every now and then whacking the bars of other cells. I scrape my hooves against the ground in a vain attempt at standing, but instead crumble to the floor with a dull but loud thump.

"So I see the scum has awoken." The police pony strolls up to me, scowling. "Here's your dinner." He floats something under the bars. Upon closer examination, I can see that it's a steel dish filled with unflavored grain and a cup of water. I receive the plate with shaking hooves, taking in the blandness of the whole thing. Well, what do I expect? Bananas foster?

"Eat." The pony leaves me. I look at the grain for a moment before dipping my head and taking a mouthful. It's so bad, it makes me gag and retch until it's all on the floor and the taste is gone.

"Good evening, and where are you from, queasy of the stomach?"

I hear a smooth voice from across the hall. I squint through the darkness of the approaching evening, trying to make him out. I can only hear as his hooves walk to the front of his cage.

"I come from Ponyville. My name is Ameth—" I stop myself, looking at my hooves, how they're pockmarked with holes and a darker color than the deepest shadow in my prison cell. "—Aika. My name is Aika."

"Ponyville?" The stallion hisses. I feel a tingle in my neck and down my spine, as if somepony had poured a slow trickle of water down it. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not!" I manage to find the strength to stand, looking up at the dark shadow that seems pretty close to the shape of a pony. "I come from Ponyville! I have friends there! My old name was Amethyst Star. I'm…" I pause. "I'm a Changeling. From the Outlying parts. I came here, assumed the name of Amethyst Star, all in honor of the true Amethyst's death. And now, the Princess—"

"Yes, she did. She skinned you. She ridded you of your present self and forced you to take on your former. You are Aika. A Changeling. You are not from Ponyville. And you are not Amethyst Star." His voice is both calming and scary. It makes me wonder how anyone so calm and collected could possibly be thrown into this crude of a jail.

"Yes, sir." I bow my head slightly and busy myself with trying to get used to moving my hooves across the ground again by walking towards the little loop and back out towards the place the chain restricts my movement. A solid clank that reverberates through the hall of cells signifies the fact that I have officially stepped in my plate. I groan, but I also hear a soft murmur from across the way. "Aika, you aren't quite accustomed to their prison food quite yet, are you?"

"No, sir." I decide that as long as he keeps asking yes or no questions, my job is only to say yes or no. I find myself wondering why, but I already know. As much as it scares me, I love listening to him talk. I'm not sure if it's because I truly enjoy it, or more along the lines of the fact that I haven't really had a conversation in a while.

"I see. You remind me of a classic gourmet from Canterlot. Let's see… Your voice has a twinge about it that makes it seem rather uptight, though the way you move is much less so."

"Sir, you do realize that you are not talking to a pony, and you comparing me to them is rather unfair." I have broken my own rule. Shame on me.

"Yes, of course." I swear I can see his teeth reflecting in the watery, sparse moonlight as he smiles gently. Another sound takes me quite off guard: The sound of him inhaling deeply.

"Sir?" I ask.

"Ahh, Aika, you smell…" I want to suggest everything that smells putrid, but refrain from it. Talking back even more could cause him to stop speaking to me. "…You smell of citrus. Orange, to be exact. By the smell of it, you seem to be around a lot of those." He pauses and breathes deeply a second time, allowing me a chance to turn a bright shade of red. My knees are about ready to turn into jelly. "…You also smell of chamomile. Only a slight undertone, but altogether completing your scent beautifully."

I breathe in shakily. Minuette grows chamomile. Often we would pick lots of the flowers and mix them into essential oils, tea, cleansing lotions, and bubble bath. That's the overhanging scent of her house, in polar contrast to my own citrus.

Why am I thinking of them as my own friends? Just because I stepped in as a replacement does not mean I am the pony they thought of me as.

"Sir…" is all I manage to croak out as I walk as close as possible to the cell door and lie down. "Sir…What is your name?"

"My name is Hannibal."

I sigh and lay my head between my hooves, feeling my body grow peaceful. "Hannibal…Would you mind if I slept?"

"Not at all. You must allow that jaw to heal. You are bleeding."

I blink and start, fumbling with one hoof to feel at my jaw. An instant yelp of pain escapes my lips. Though I can't see it, I feel the stickiness as my hoof pulls back with half-dried blood. I wonder how he would have smelled it. "Hannibal?"

"Sleep, Aika. Sleep. We'll talk again."


	6. Chapter 6

**More Hannibal drabble here. Don't hate me for loving his character!**

Waking up is easier than the last time. My overturned plate is gone, and in front of my muzzle is another plate, this one filled with oats. Upon tasting it, I find that, though lukewarm, it isn't half bad. I also find that I am incredibly famished. The oats are gone within six minutes. Only then do I realize that it is daytime and that I could see.

My cell isn't very interesting. Not much more is here than I had seen last night, apart from a toilet and faucet. What really catches my eye is the cell across from me.

It is glass. I can see no distinction between the door and the wall. There are holes in it, along with a small drawer that must be used for transfer of objects to and from the captive. It wasn't your run of the mill jail cell.

The captive is who catches my eye.

He has a gleaming coat of white fur, untarnished and sleek. He is an older stallion, but his face is bright and intuitive. His eyes are arctic ice. His grey mane is slicked back. On his body he wears a pale blue suit, much like those in an insane asylum would. I can't see his cutie mark.

At the moment, his attention is turned towards the desk that has been placed in the corner of his cell. In his mouth is a pencil. He's drawing.

"Good morning, Aika."

I look at him, but his eyes are trained on the paper. I watch his lips tighten and relax around the pencil, sometimes baring his teeth. "Did you enjoy breakfast?"

I look at the empty plate before me and raise an eyebrow. Was it enjoyable? No, not really, but I was hungry at the time.

"I suppose I did, sir. What are you drawing?"

He places the pencil on the desk gently and lifts the paper so I can see. It's a sleeping pony…No, Changeling…with slightly crushed wings and one hoof under its bleeding jaw.

"Is that me?"

"Yes." He places it back on his desk, looking at me. The way he looks at me makes me uncomfortable; the way his head is tilted, the way his smile is gently intimidating. I look away from his eyes, back at the desk.

"Sir, last night I was going to ask…uh…How were you able to smell my blood?"

I watch as his lip twitches at the corner and his eyes flicker to the left. "Aika, do you really wish to know?"

"Yes, sir, I mean, I think so…" I say uncertainly.

"Well, I am in this jail because of one crime, one crime alone. A crime I have committed multiple times, Aika." He tilts his head to the side. "Have you ever heard of Hannibal the Cannibal?"

My breath hitches. Suddenly, the space between me and this stallion seems to be closing quickly.

"Aika, my dear, don't be that way. I haven't had anyone to talk with other than investigators and prison guards for such a long time, and I want to keep you around."

That catches me off guard. His reason for talking with me is the same as my own.

I relate to Hannibal Lecter.

I stare into his eyes for a moment, then nod uncertainly. "I'm fine with that. I'm absolutely fine. In fact, let's move on to a different subject, please, now, Dr. Lecter?"

He moans. "Please, Aika, call me Hannibal. Dr. Lecter is for the FBI."

I find myself pondering this statement way more than I should be. It's silent for about a minute and a half before he decides to speak.

"What is your most traumatic experience?"

This one's an easy one.

"Around five years ago, sometime after the Changeling attack on Canterlot, an unsuspecting unicorn mare wandered into our Outlands. My people fed on her and left her for dead. I don't know what exactly came over me then, but I took her home. I fed her, cared for her, all while she drifted closer and closer to death. But I kept her alive, and I listened when she told me…" I choke on tears. "…That she didn't want to go to sleep."

It's silent again, but he breaks it much faster this time. "Aika, life is so boring in this cramped little cell. I have no relationships, nothing to account for. No one to care for. Not until they can prove that I'm a sane pony and not a cannibalistic lunatic. That's why I like having you here. You provide that. It's something I've needed." He walks up to the glass of his cell and lays a hoof against it. "I want out, Aika."

I stand up slowly, staring at his hoof for a second before leaning as far in the restricting chains as possible and placing my hoof against the metal bar in front of me. "Sir."

"ALRIGHT, GET HER OUT OF THERE!"

I startle at the loud female voice. My cell door is slid open and there is a cage, a small cage that's much less roomy and welcoming than my jail cell. My hoof cuffs are unlatched and I'm thrown headfirst into the cage. I flutter my crumpled wings in vain, trying to escape through the bars of the tiny cage, but they're too close together.

I stop and listen and confirm that the cage is rolling across the ground. I look back at the long hall, at a million staring pony faces, but especially at Hannibal. I paw pitifully at the bars of the cage, hoping for the bars to have a soft spot, but all the time backing slowly out of the hall. He gives me one last look, a small grin, and waves slowly as I round a corner.


	7. Chapter 7

I'm passed through rows of security ponies, taken pictures of, and pointed at by the crowd of ponyfolk around me. I hiss weakly at one filly, but it is in vain, as they are all intent on taunting the hell out of me. I simply lay down and listen to the dull vibrations of the wooden wheels on the ground. Every bump we hit sends a jolt of pain through my jaw. I just try to block all their voices out.

Finally the cage comes to a stop and I can look around. I'm surrounded by ponies, but as hard as I look, I cannot find my friends. I guess it's too optimistic to think my friends would show up to my showcase. Especially when I'm in this body. It still feels unreal to have wings on my back and holes in my hooves. I realize, sitting there, with all of those ponies standing around me, taunting me, hissing and booing, that I have indeed gotten to the point where I've hurt myself by being a Changeling.

There's a shout from over my head, and a dull thunk as four hooves come into contact with the roof of my cage. I'm sure it's the Princess, here to publicly humiliate me. I block her out and curl into a ball, focusing on stretching my gossamer wings out. I peripherally sense the cage moving again, and can only hope the cage is headed somewhere more secluded. I'm thrown a little nonchalantly into the jail cell, hooves clamped back into the cuffs again.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You're a liar." I hear Hannibal's hooves walk slowly to the glass barrier once again. "What happened out there?"

"…" I don't feel like talking. I feel like stewing in my own thoughts. Even so, it's Hannibal. He's on the list of people I could talk to right now if I need to.

"I am. I was just publicly humiliated by the Princess. Or at least, that's the impression I got. I wasn't listening."

"I see." There isn't a shadow of pity in his voice. I'm grateful for that. I'm not in the mood for pity. Especially because there was no pity in the crowd.

"Yeah, and my friends weren't there either. So I'm alone in the world as of now."

"Am I not your friend?"

I think. Is he? I've never come into contact with him. Only talked to him over a ten foot expansion of concrete. Annoying. I don't think I'll ever even get to be in the same breathing space as him.

"Are you?" is the only thing I can think of to say without lying. I look at him with enough venom to make him drop the question.

He doesn't though, just looks at me a little more softly. "I'd like to be."

Why does he keep surprising me? I blink, losing the venom of my stare and watching him unblinkingly. He then mimics me, slowly dropping to his knees and lying down, so we're almost at eye level. He tilts his head at me, his ears laying back flat against his neck. He's so close to the glass, it's fogging up a little with each of his breaths.

I sigh and put my head down, careful not to press too hard against the raw scabs, and smile softly, catching him off guard. I smile wider, letting my teeth show as I descend into laughter. It feels good to laugh. So good. The sound resonates through the halls.

When I'm done, he's in awe. Totally surprised him. As I catch my breath, I hear him giggle. It sounds strange coming out of his mouth. "You have a nice laugh, Aika…"

I smirk at him and stand, dust myself off, and then plop down. "Let's have a conversation then. A real one. I want to know more about you."


End file.
